“I can’t tell you,” he said decidedly. “Steve is one of my oldest friends and I promised him.” “Oh, yes, I’ve heard all about him,” she cried a little impatiently. “You and he went to college together and sang, ‘A Stein on the Table,’ and went on sprees together and made love to the same girls, and played on the same teams. I know all that college stuff.” “But we didn’t go to college together,” he said. “Alice said you did,” she returned, “or to school or something together, but don’t take that as an excuse to get reminiscent. I hate men’s reminiscences; they make me so darned envious. I wish I’d been a man, Monty.” “I don’t,” said he smiling. “Don’t try to flirt with me,” she exclaimed, as he edged a little nearer. “Why not?” he demanded. “You don’t know how,” she said and smiled provokingly. For a moment Monty forgot pearls and Customs and all unpleasant things. “Teach me,” he entreated. “It can’t be taught,” she said. “It’s got to be born in you.” She cast her eyes down and looked alluringly at him through curling lashes. There was the opportunity for Monty to see whether he had any skill at the ancient game, but a sudden numbing nervousness took hold of him. And while he could have written a prize essay on what he should have done, he had not the courage to make the attempt. “Well?” she said presently. “Go on.” “I wonder where Steve is?” he said desperately. “You’re hopeless,” she cried exasperated. “I don’t know where ‘Steve’ is, and I don’t care. I hope he’s under the car with gasoline dripping into his eyes.” Poor Monty groaned; for it was equally true that he at this particular moment was anxious to forget everything but the pretty girl at his side. “Nora,” he said nervously, “for the last year there’s been something trembling on my lips--” “Oh, Monty,” she cried ecstatically, “don’t shave it off, I love it!” He rose, discomfited, to meet his hostess coming toward him with Miss Ethel Cartwright, a close friend of hers whom he had never before met. He noticed Michael quietly working his unobtrusive way back to the position where Alice had left him, wiping his moustache with satisfaction. “Monty,” said Mrs. Harrington, “I don’t think you’ve ever met my very best friend, Miss Cartwright.” “How do you do,” the girl said smiling. “Be kind to him, Ethel,” Michael remarked genially. “He’s a nice boy and the idol of the Paris Bourse.” “And an awful flirt,” Nora chimed in. “If I had had a heart he would have broken it long ago.” “Do you know,” Alice said, “it has never occurred to me to think of Monty as a flirt. Are you a flirt, Monty?” “No,” he said indignantly. “You needn’t be so emphatic when I ask you,” she said reprovingly. She sighed. “I suppose it’s one of the penalties of age. I’ve known him a disgracefully long time, Ethel, before the Palisades were grown-up.” “I’m sorry I didn’t get down to meet you, Alice,” Miss Cartwright said, “I did mean to, but business detained me.”